I'll Tell Thee a Tale
by Lady Viola Delesseps
Summary: "I'll tell thee a tale, O list to me... But merry or sad, which shall it be?" Imagine the light sound of a harp, the high trill of a flute, and the insistent beating of a bodhran. Imagine the sun warm upon our skin and the air soft around us. A voice lifts above all else and sings, bringing the ancient tales to life, images from Middle Earth and beyond.
1. Boromir

_**Author's Note: Well, I told myself I'd never get into the song-fic genre, simply because I dislike music with words and never was very crazy about the mixing of lyrics and the flow of a story. But I really like Heather Dale's music, so if you're not familiar with her, look her up. She writes wonderful medieval-themed ballads in the Celtic style and too many of them remind me of Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit to hold off writing these anymore. So, look up the songs if you don't know them, and think of their beauty and how fitting they are to these characters... God bless! -Lady Viola**_

**Song: The Measure of a Man, written inspired by the traditions at a viking funeral.**

**Character: Boromir**

**Dedicated to: Falkira, our brave protector. I think of you when I sing this song. Your measure is great indeed.**

**No credit goes to me and the simplistic tie-ins to the lyrics. But the words are remarkably fitting – one could almost imagine it was written for this scene. All credit goes to Heather Dale for writing this lovely song, to Tolkien for writing this character and story, and to Peter Jackson for bringing the incredible story to life. **

_Steel on steel, break the blade that called him to his rest, and cast it to the deep..._

Aragorn's vision swam, and he could hear his own breathing loud in his ears as he charged across the uneven ground, sliding to his knees on the leaf-strewn ground, and taking his friend into his arms. His eyes opened briefly, and they were murky with pain as they focused on the face hovering above him. He opened his mouth just long enough to breathe a few words, and Aragorn's voice choked as he made his final oath to the heir of Gondor, placing his fallen sword in his shaking hand.

_Light the pyre, name the one whose shield is on his chest, and leave him to his sleep._

All about them the woods rustled in the rising wind, but Aragorn had no eyes for anything but the dying man beside him, no ears for anything save his last words. When at last his words ceased to come, his breath fleeing him and leaving behind the still pallor of death, he lowered his face to the man's and let fall a silent tear.

_...The measure of a man stands or falls with what he leaves behind._

…_.Gather on the sand. Let your voices carry to the night, rise in light;_

_Let the gods look down on this and wonder._

Standing now, upon the banks of the river, looking upon the unmoving form of the fallen warrior, the ranger swore in his heart that though one of their number had now given his life in this quest, they would not give up hope. No, they would press ever harder, now that he was no longer walking in the land of the living, and prove to the gods that theirs was a journey and a destiny meant to be fulfilled.

_Raise the ring, cast the broken circle to the deep, and give the sea her due._

Frodo pulled the chain that hung around his neck, releasing the gold band that was strung on it from the neck of his shirt, and regarding it with a humid gaze. This ring. This tiny bauble, was the seat of such power, and was the reason that they had come so far. Though its final destination was the fires of Mordor, he resisted the strong urge to fling it as far away from him as possible, to let it sink beneath the waters of the river, to be found by some greater person in ages yet to come.

_Push the prow, let him lead the final charge again, where all will follow soon._

Giving the vessel a push, Aragorn stepped back and watched as the waters took their hold and rocked the wooden bier from side to side, the stern swinging wide into the current, and then righting itself. Gradually, the pull of the river inspired the boat to greater impetus, and it sped through the stream, carrying the remains of one of the company out of sight beyond the falls.

…_.The measure of a man stands or falls with what he leaves behind._

…_.Gather on the sand. Let your voices carry to the night, rise in light;_

_Let the gods look down on this and wonder._

The first to fall, and those left behind had to prove he had not fallen in vain.

_...The measure of a man stands or falls with what he leaves behind. _


	2. Gandalf and Galadriel

**Song: The Lady of the Lake, written about Sir Lancelot and the Lady of the Lake.**

**Characters: Gandalf and Galadriel**

**Dedicated to: Mint-Nar, my dear friend who listens to this song with me as we sew epic costumes together.**

**Did the moment where Galadriel takes Gandalf's hand and strokes a tiny strand of errant hair back from his face ever inspire curiosity? They have both lived long upon Middle-Earth, and their first meeting must have been memorable...**

**All credit goes to Heather Dale for writing this lovely song, to Tolkien for writing these characters and story, and to Peter Jackson for bringing the incredible story to life. **

_He was young, and he rode along the river..._

_Raven haired – _

_The fairest thing to grace those steady banks in ages come and lost forever._

It had been a long journey, and the young wizard was ashamed to admit how he was wearying. Pulling up his horse, he stopped as he spied through the trees a still pond, lit by the setting sun, and very near the lands of Lorien. He did not know he was being watched. Keen light eyes pierced the thin veil of autumning leaves and saw him, a tall figure with flowing dark locks in a loose robe that bespoke his distinguished race... She remained still, watching to see what he would do.

_And power lay upon him like a thousand secrets she'd never known,_

_And so she spoke._

Using the words of her tongue, the elven maid took a single step forward, her bare feet resting lightly on the still-soft fallen leaves, something about him sending thrill through her veins. He was of great knowledge for one so young, and of great power. It would frighten a soul less brave than hers, and it was quite possible he did not entirely know his potential yet.

_In the lapping of the land_

_Golden-tongued –_

_Her whispers fickle jewels upon the sand, ephemeral, and softly spoken._

The young wizard's sharp ears picked up the sound of the mystic melody, and his eyes searched his surroundings for whence they came, but all he could hear was the steady sound of the pond's ebbing and flowing against the dark banks of the surrounding sod.

_But he was wiser than his years and shed his hooves to meet her there upon the reeds_

_Where earth recedes._

With a soft thump, he disentangled his robes from the saddle and landed upon the sward, taking his staff within his hand and beginning to stray from the road. Everything he had ever been taught combined with that which was innately in him to draw him to the edge of the water, and there, lifting the hem of his robe and sliding from his soft boots, he stepped into the cool of the water, his heart pounding as his eyes and ears continued to search.

_There he stood, as the silt caressed the bottoms of his feet..._

_Circles formed – _

His keen eyes picked up the ripples first. There was a minute splash, as if a pebble had been flung into the mirror of the pond, and he remained still, watching it intently.

_Growing outward, drawing inward, gaining strength and going homeward_

_In the trumpeting of swans, in lilies laced upon a pond._

The elf took longer steps, her skirts brushing against her legs as she walked, and made so bold as to step into view across the small space which divided them. His eyes met hers, and for a moment, neither spoke.

_She rose before him like the ice before the spring,_

_And was a queen..._

She was likely the most regal sight he had ever seen. The young wizard planted his staff within the realms of the water and sent his own series of rivulets swirling outward, resisting the urge to manipulate them with magic, to make an impression. Not before this one. She could see through his mind and heart, and he suddenly realized, that if he focused his mind long enough, he could know something of her as well. Slowly, their steps closed the distance between them, and she offered her hand, aiding him as he stepped up out of the water.

_And their touch was like a lover's,_

_Clear and sweet;_

_Drenching and enfolding with no need for air or sunlight in the deep._

It was a language that needed no words, as if everything the other had ever thought about that which is best and noblest in this world or any other played before their vision as clearly as in a crystal ball. Hand in hand, they searched each others minds.

_And in the passions that they bared,_

_In pledges won and secrets shared,_

"You come here seeking something, mithrandil," she whispered at last, her voice breaking the reverie. "It is something which shall not occur for a time and half a time again," he muttered, and she merely inclined her head, bright strands of hair falling to reveal the points of her ears. Lifting a hand, he gently tucked it back and her eyes met his. "We shall meet again," she breathed.

_They'd stand together in what destiny would bring_

_And crown a king. _


	3. Legolas

**Song: Mordred's Lullaby, written from Morgana La Fey to her son Mordred.**

**Character: Legolas**

**Dedicated to: thekidisnotyourson. This concept is brilliantly elaborated on in her story "A Forgotten Queen". Go read it as _soon_ as you finish here.**

**Thranduil is an interesting, mystery-shrouded figure. I would imagine that his relationship with his son is not without pain, and as Legolas' unnamed mother never comes into play, I am imagining some long-running resentment was instilled in him at an early age. This is an intense one. **

**All credit goes to Heather Dale for writing this lovely song, to Tolkien for writing this character and story, and to Peter Jackson for bringing the incredible story to life. **

_Hush, child, the darkness will rise from the deep, and_

_Carry you down into sleep, child,_

_The darkness will rise from the deep, and_

_Carry you down into sleep._

The young elfling lay still upon his bed, his limbs tired from the days exertions, the low voice of his mother filling his ears as he waited for sleep. Her race was of the darker elves, those unknown to much of Mirkwood, and all had been shocked when Thranduil had taken her, first as his prisoner, then as his wife. He was a cruel figure, and little was known of their relationship. Unless it could be drawn from the words she uttered in her ancient language to her pale-haired son who looked the living image of his father.

_Guileless son, I'll shape your belief,_

_And you'll always know that your father's a thief._

So pale was his brow as he lay in repose, Thranduil, the silent, emotionless ruler of this woodland kingdom. Taking prisoners was not so cruel in itself, but to reverse the tables on someone like this, to pull one from the clutches of ignominy and force her to be his wife was beyond remorseless. In a strange way, she felt she loved him, but he never said as much to her. Theirs was a nearly wordless relationship, and she could never shake the thought that whatever it was she had, he had taken it from her by force.

_And you won't understand the cause of your grief, _

_But you'll always follow the voices beneath..._

If the time before the birth of her son had been any indication, she knew this young one would have a troubled life. Rancor simmered within her breast as surely as it did behind the still gaze of her husband, and it was something she could not understand. But there was an urge within her, an urge to break free, and so she did, not realizing how much she would be made to regret it.

_Guileless son, your spirit will hate her,_

_The flower who married my brother the traitor._

She was growing her vengeance. Because she now understood the purposes of his taking her from her cell and making her his wife. It was a shield, a mask. There was another. Elves are not given to unfaithfulness, but her brother had avowed to seeing Thranduil with his own wife, the closest friend of her childhood. If there came a child from this union, then she would kill it with her own hands, she swore. She did not realize how incapable of fulfilling this she would be when she saw the tiny red-haired infant in it's mother's arms.

_And you will expose his puppeteer behaviour_

_For you are the proof of how he betrayed her loyalty._

A better plan had crossed her mind. This blond haired child of her own womb, and the spawn of his traitor father and another would be raised in consort, never knowing the truth. So she set him to learning the meaning of hate. It was not something he took easily to. But children are young, and soon he professed a strong dislike of the man he knew as father, though he was told no more than that he was a liar, a manipulator, and a traitor of the highest order.

_Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty, loyalty,_

_Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty, only to me._

It was paramount that he be independent, able to think on his own, quickly, and keenly, with the skills of her people, but to channel his fealty to her. She was the injured party, after all.

_Hush, child, the darkness will rise from the deep, and_

_Carry down into sleep, child,_

_The darkness will rise from the deep, and_

_Carry you down into sleep._

Every night, her words rang in the chamber of his repose, filling his dreams, and she would stroke a hand down his pale hair and over his slumbering features, watching his limbs lengthen, his form grow strong, and his face handsome. She knew her days were numbered, and concentrated her efforts.

_Guileless son, each day you grow older,_

_Each moment I'm watching my vengeance unfold_

There was one thing she did not count upon as she watched her thoughts blossom in his head over the years, and his bow be put to use to her purposes. He was of her, and it could not be possible that he would turn upon her as well.

_O'er this child of my body, the flesh of my soul_

_Will die in returning the birthright he stole._

Nothing was invested in the red-haired child as she grew, except a post as the captain of the guard, but her son was prince, rightful or no. Thranduil tried to say that as another race, he was not entitled the throne after him, and that none would rule Mirkwood but him alone. But when Thranduil was in a council, she seated young Legolas in the seat of his future authority, and lowered the crown upon his head, a deed that cannot be undone. Thranduil had been so furious when he heard, but lingering in her mind was the vision of her son leaping to his feet and sprinting from the room, the crown falling to the floor, and shedding twigs and berries upon the cold ground.

_Hush, child, the darkness will rise from the deep, and_

_Carry you down into sleep, child,_

_The darkness will rise from the deep, and_

_Carry you down into sleep..._


	4. Eowyn

**Song: The Light of the North, written as tribute to the forgotten medieval kingdom of Ealdormere, in modern-day Canada. **

**Character: Eowyn**

**Dedicated to: The fair maids of the lands in the north where there are mountains, Adelaide and Falaria. Fight boldly for our King.**

**When I heard this song, I immediately thought of our favorite brave warrioress; whether in Rohan or Ealdormere, I thought it incredibly fitting.**

**All credit goes to Heather Dale for writing this lovely song, to Tolkien for writing this character and story, and to Peter Jackson for bringing the incredible story to life. **

_The ones who rule over our fair land of Ealdormere, _

_They reign just and wisely, we vouch with good cheer,_

_And no truer lady trod on this good earth, _

_So let the hall ring for the light of the north._

She stood tall before the mirror, and adjusted a final time the draping undersleeves of her gown. It had been so long since they had held a feast worthy of the sort of dressing up she had undergone. There was no denying she loved the feel of the circlet upon her brow and the cool smooth fabric flowing about her. But she could say she felt equally comfortable in a loose shift dress, or even the heavy armor of battle.

_Let the hall ring for the princess of Ealdormere,_

_Let the hall ring for the light of the north._

Entering the hall, the people immediately set up a shout, hailing her entrance and professing their goodwill toward her.

_She matches in honor the prince of our Ealdormere,_

_To all of her subjects she lends a fair ear;_

_Lady by grace and princess by worth,_

_So let the hall ring for the light of the north._

In a few moments she had crossed the room and taken a seat next to her husband, who regarded her with a warm smile and covered her hand with his own. "They are pleased to see you after such a long convalescence." Smiling ruefully, she traced a hand up the still weakened arm which had only seen the light of the sun from beneath bandaging for the first time last week, and nodded. "I am not the only hero who has undergone healing." He merely smiled in reply.

_Let the hall ring for the princess of Ealdormere,_

_Let the hall ring for the light of the north._

Like a blow upon the head, the flash of memory came before her vision and her breathing quickened. Her vision was limited from behind the helmet which was strange upon her face, but a sword in her hand was no unfamiliar thrill. Her hours of secret training would at last be put to use. With a great shout, she lunged forward and spun the sword with all her might upon the witch king, and she was flung backwards to the ground for her efforts, cold pain racing up the arm which took the impact. Her gaze swam, but she got to her feet once again, and gave one last thrust into her faceless foe.

_She carries a sword for the honor of Ealdormere, _

_Before her in battle our foes flee in fear, _

_With her inspiration our heroes charge forth_

_So let the hall ring for the light of the north._

Her breathing slowed, as she pulled back from the memory, and once again saw the people of her realm spread out before her, enjoying the sumptuous feast, but most of all, living at peace and happy, now that their enemies had been driven from their realm.

_Let the hall ring for the princess of Ealdormere,_

_Let the hall ring for the light of the north._

Her husband beside her, their love still blossoming into its full potential, she felt truly happy. The past was a blur of the good and the bad, and the future would be much the same. Somehow, she was prepared.

_Let the hall ring for the princess of Ealdormere,_

_Let the hall ring for the light of the north._


	5. Fili and Kili

**Song: True and Destined Prince, written as a more positive alternative to the usual backstabbing that goes on with those who are close to the heir to any throne.**

**Characters: Fili and Kili**

**Dedicated to: My sister, my other half, the Roxas to my Axel, the Kirk to my Spock, and the John to my Sherlock. I love you.**

**All credit goes to Heather Dale for writing this lovely song, to Tolkien for writing these characters and story, and to Peter Jackson for bringing the incredible story to life. **

_My kinsman and my brother,_

_My shieldmate and my guide._

_May my arm always defend you_

_And your honor lift you high._

From as far back as he could remember, Fili had protected Kili. Whether it be from other dwarrow children who picked on his small size or from the imaginary beasts in the land of their play, he had looked after him. Until the day when they had overheard Thorin and their mother speaking of the roles they were to play in the future world. "Fili will sit upon the throne one day," he had said, and young Kili's keen ears had picked up on it. "What of me?" he had asked, and Thorin put a heavy hand on his shoulder. "You are to protect him."

_You are true and destined prince_

_And my sword is by your side,_

_I will fight for you in glory til I die._

Beginning that day, Kili set himself up as his brother's other half, his right-hand dwarf, and his personal bodyguard in everything. Fili had laughed at the attempts, and as they grew things evened out a bit, but Kili always considered himself his brother's first and foremost loyal subject. It was unfathomable that he should be anything else.

_When you sit upon the trillium throne_

_The banner will I fly._

_The flower upon the scarlet_

_And our voices raise up high._

In battle, they were always side by side, whether it be the skirmishes of their youth or the real fights that came to them in adulthood. They worked perfectly together, like clockwork, and guarding each others backs, neither ever received a very significant injury. This was only for a time.

_You are true and destined prince,_

_And my sword is by your side,_

_I will fight for you in glory til I die. _

"Kili?" Fili asked one day, as they were at repose together against the base of a tree. Fili was carving chunks from his apple with his knife and munching them contemplatively, and Kili had his eyes closed. "Hm?"

"Do you think you will be jealous?"

Kili did not understand. "What of?"

"If uncle's plan succeeds, and he reclaims Erebor. He will be king, and me after him."

Kili was silent for a long while, but at last spoke slowly. "I will only be jealous if you let someone else be as close to you as I am now, and give the duties I want to fulfill to another."

Fili turned to look at him. "I would never give a post of higher honor to one other than you. You are my brother."

"You are the heir to the throne of Durin. It is my honor and pleasure. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you."

"Fetch me another apple?"

Kili threw a stick at him.

_When the time for bloody war has come_

_Your right hand I will be,_

_Where you lead, my prince, I'll follow,_

_As we sweep to victory._

They liked to say they were interchangeable, that if Fili could not come, Kili would serve just as well, and if you wanted Kili, well, then, why not take Fili, he's more or less the same. But they knew that it was not true. It became more and more clear as the years passed, and they even began to take pride in it. But never to the point that they were too individual. It was always Fili and Kili, Kili and Fili. Fili would be king, and Kili would be at his side. It was meant to be that way.

_You are true and destined prince,_

_And my sword is by your side,_

_I will fight for you in glory til I die._

"Are you afraid?" Fili asked in a low voice, hearing to Kili's quick breathing as they stood side by side.

"Aye," he admitted, turning to his brother. "You?"

Fili shook his head. "I do not know. But we will surely go down in the pages of the histories for this."

And Kili's boyish laugh filled his ears as they waited for their foes to come.

_We will keep the shieldwall fast, my king_

_That day our foes will die,_

_As prince you'll reign victorious,_

_You will hear the battlecry._

Among the clash of arms and the groans of the dying, Kili's eyes searched frantically over the battlfield to spy his brother. They had been separated in the intensity of the charge, and he felt as if he had lost an arm not having him there. And a sickening feeling at the pit of his stomach rose when he realized that if Fili was alone, no one was guarding his back. Then he saw him, his blond hair wild, hacking viciously at the ring of foes. Yanking his shield firmly upon his arm, Kili broke into a sprint.

_You are true and destined prince,_

_And my sword is by your side,_

_I will fight for you in glory til I die. _

Rising before him, from the very earth it seemed, an orc let out a guttural screech and raised his blade, but Fili was quick, swinging his axe in a broad arc that made the creature stagger backwards, a deep gash in his dark leathern armor. Then blood spurted from his mouth and Fili saw the tip of a familiar sword protruding from the orcs body, and when he fell with a crash, he saw Kili, eyes wide, face streaked with the dirt and gore of the battlefield.

_May you sing the deeds of glory,_

_Of your kinsman gone away._

_May they see your glowing pride_

_If I should fall upon that day._

"Thorin! Protect Thorin!" Fili shouted, but Kili shook his head.

"No! I protect you!"

That was when Kili saw the arrow pierce his brother's flesh, in the left of his chest just below his shoulder. A cry rang out that was not his own, and he plunged forward to catch him as he fell.

_You are true and destined prince,_

_And my sword is by your side,_

_I will fight for you in glory til I die. _

"No!" he shouted, breaking the shaft as Fili cried out in agony. "Fili, stay with me, this is our day of victory!"

But he sank into the blackness, and when Kili saw the gleam of the steel raised above him to strike, he did not resist. He merely bowed his head, a single tear falling upon the face of his brother.

_You are true and destined prince,_

_And my sword is by your side,_

_I will fight for you in glory til I die. _


	6. Tauriel

**Song: Each Step, written for all those leaving their lovers to travel a far way. **

**Characters: Kili and Tauriel**

**All credit goes to Heather Dale for writing this lovely song, to Tolkien for writing these characters and story, and to Peter Jackson for bringing the incredible story to life. **

_Dry your eyes - it's no cause to weep,  
The weather is fine and the road isn't steep._

She stood before him, looking down at the top of his head which was bowed in sadness. "It will not be a forever parting,_ mellon_," she told him. He merely nodded, and pressed a cool round stone into her hand.

_The world is still round, my compass is true;  
Each step is a step back to you._

Though they had but a brief time of knowing each other, something had seemed to spark, to kindle, and to leap with life. They were separate races, divided in more ways than either could imagine. But somehow, they had determined to let nothing come between them.

_Each step is a step back to you._

"It will only be a brief while, I cannot stay here," she had told him. "My services are needed in the woods of my people, and I have no business here e beyond what I have already accomplished." The city upon the lake had become a meeting place, an oasis between the forests and the mountains, where they could join company at last. "May your steps be sure, and your business swift," he had whispered. "I will be waiting."

_Dry your eyes - each day you're alone  
Is one fewer to wait 'til your lover comes home._

He had to remind himself that such a lapse of time was but a blink in the life of an elf. It was no great period to a dwarf either, but it seemed to be such an age since they had parted company. But in the ring of swords while training he saw the flashes of starlight in her eyes, and in the tramp of feet marching on the mountaintops he heard her chanting, as she had stood before him that day alight with healing.

_The world is still round, my compass is true;  
Each step is a step back to you.  
Each step is a step back to you._

Many were the tasks that she put her hand to, upon which she trained her bow and against which she sharpened her blade. But never far from her mind were the warm brown eyes, and the hard strong hand of the dwarf to whom she had, most surely, lost her heart.

_Dry your eyes, and give me your hand,  
We'll see the same stars as I travel the land._

At last the day came, and she stood before the great entrance to the kingdom under the mountain, feeling small, and vulnerable in the face of such grandeur. A guard hailed her approach with a shout, and in a strange tongue asked her intentions there.

"I have come to fulfill a promise," she replied, and the cryptic response was understood. She was not the only one. He greeted her with greater joy then she thought possible.

"Come with me," she urged him. "No duties now keep me there, as none keep you here."

He hesitated only a fraction of a second. "I believe you promised me a view of the stars as you see them."

So they set out, hand in hand, beneath the light of night which is the shining of memory.

_The world is still round, my compass is true;  
Each step is a step back to you.  
Each step is a step back to you._

And when exhaustion and the limits of his mortal body forced them to stop and briefly rest, tears would again come to his eyes. He did not know why. But she would sit by his side, and wipe them away, while his fingers tangled in her long red hair. "We shall never be parted," she whispered. "Never for long."

_Dry your eyes– no cause to weep,  
The weather is fine and the road isn't steep.  
The world is still round, my compass is true;  
Each step is a step back to you.  
Each step is a step back to you._


	7. Arwen and Aragorn

**Song: For Guinevere, from the point of view of Sir Lancelot.**

**Characters: Arwen and Aragorn**

**Dedicated to: Aqua4444, for suggesting this and encouraging me on. May your love of the soul of music and of Middle Earth live on.**

**All credit goes to Heather Dale for writing this lovely song, to Tolkien for writing these characters and story, and to Peter Jackson for bringing the incredible story to life. **

_With all the years between us –_

_..I know your heart..._

_You know I'd never lie._

She stood before him, feeling, as she always did, somehow bare under his gaze. His eyes were those that could pierce the nonsense of society and the shrewdness of long living the moment he laid eyes on a person. She knew this, and though this was one of the things she cherished most about him, it seemed now like fire – warm from a distance, but scathing the skin.

_Let other people judge us_

_With all their own assumptions_

_You know with me you never have to hide._

For a long moment she stood thus, her heart feeling as if it would break in two. She did not wish to deceive him. But his eyes sought a clear answer, which she could not give. How could she, when she hardly knew herself?

"Arwen," he said gently, warm hand resting on her shoulder, willing her to enter the embrace. She did so gladly, pressing her face to him and allowing the tension to flow from her as the tears traced free paths down her cheeks. "You can tell me," he murmured.

"I would tell you anything. Anything at all that I knew."

_We'll never be those wide-eyed kids who fell in love then,_

_We'll never fit inside those narrow lines again._

"Things used to be so much simpler," she managed at last, taking in a deep breath. His hand went to and fro over her hair. "Before these dark days."

"They were no more simple then," he returned, stepping back and looking into her eyes. "We were still divided as children. They would say, 'Look at that elf maid playing with the human boy." He gestured as one watching from afar.

"I would not let them bar you out."

"I never felt that I did not belong here," he said, smiling ever so slightly. "Yet I played in my head that I was an elf."

_We could pretend, we could pretend._

_But that never suited us somehow._

"Go back," she whispered. "Go back to how things were."

Aragorn shook his head. "We cannot. It is no use to imagine so, and I would not have you wish it. Do you hate what we have become so much?"

She shook her head, her dark locks obscuring her shapely ears, veiling their fine points.

"No. It is infinitely better."

"Then why do you wish us back?" he pressed gently.

"Because it is so difficult..."

"It is not in our nature to turn back when the road becomes rough," he replied, taking her hand. She looked at their fingers intertwined and drew strength from the sight.

_Love is endlessly surprising,_

_Too precious to be squandered –_

_I'll always be your lover, I'll always be your shoulder._

_And I don't care how far they say we've wandered._

Lord Elrond's face was unreadable. Arwen lifted her chin ever so slightly. "I am yours to command."

"This is most unexpected..." he murmured, rising, his robes pooling about him like the strong tides of the forest falls. "I do not wish to command you in this."

Her lips trembled. "I wish that you would." His brows furrowed, as she continued, "For I do not know my own heart in the matter."

"I am sure that you do," he replied simply. "Though your road may separate from the well-beaten path."

_They think the only road is where they're heading, _

_But you and I were meant to sail upon the sea._

She returned to him, resolute. "They all sail with the tide."

"Your place is among them," he said into her ear.

"My place is with you."

_We could pretend, we could pretend,_

_But that never suited us somehow._

It was as if the breaking waves had crashed over them both, bringing first the pressure and suffocation, then the buoyancy of release. "Do you trust me to that extent?" he said, fighting to keep his voice steady.

_So trust me now._

_I'll never weigh you like an anchor;_

_I hope you'll always see me there inside your sail._

The leaves of the autumning fell about them, as if a token of forgotten days and of bleakness yet to come. The forest floor where once a dark-haired elf and a bold lad had romped were veiled in red, yellow, and brown: the red of blood, the yellow of wilt, and the brown of despairing things. Everything but the green of new life.

_I can see you're always worrying,_

_What they'd say if they found out._

_...If you'd only listen..._

He strode in with a purposed step, his cloak bearing the dust of the road and his face wearing the marks of struggle and strife. She rose and went to him.

"Your time will come," she murmured in his ear, and as he closed his eyes he could hear the roar of a multitude, loyal to his right.

_It might surprise them_

_What this choice is actually about._

"I do not seek a different way of life," he returned. "Only peace and prosperity for our land, and health and happiness for ourselves." His hand caressed her, and the hope of new life, and as her hand rose to his brow, her cool touch was as a crown resting there. He closed his eyes. "This is not what the battle is for."

_We don't apologize for what we share between us,_

_And every day we seem to fall in love again._

His love could not fill the gap left in her heart by her father's departure. But somehow, though her years were being quickly spent alongside the mortal she chose, she was happy. He could sense the life waning from her as each day passed; something common in humankind, but strange in an elf.

_We could pretend, we could pretend._

_We could pretend, we could pretend._

"Is mother dying?" the dark-haired child asked, and stooping, Aragorn could not but answer him. His blue eyes burned bright. "She will die just like all of us one day," he said, his voice hatefully steady, though his heart faltered within him. In that moment he prayed the Valar that he would pass before her.

_We could pretend, we could pretend,_

_But that never suited us somehow._

And as they stood before the white gathering, shouts filling the air, she had never been prouder of him. Deception, fear, and sorrow were gone. He met her eyes and he seemed to say wordlessly to her: "I knew all along."

_So trust me now. _

_Trust me now._

_Trust me now._


	8. Fili and Sigrid

**Song: As I Am**

**Characters: Fili and Sigrid**

**Dedicated to: Little King, for teaching me what I know.**

**I love the pairing of Fili and Sigrid. For those of you who don't know, Sigrid is Bard's elder daughter. So, though I made you cry by following the book in a previous chapter, this one is errant – I pretend that Fili survives. I've got an entire long fic written with these premises called "Lady of the Lake" if you would like more Figrid after this :-) **

**All credit goes to Heather Dale for writing this lovely song, to Tolkien for writing these characters and story, and to Peter Jackson for bringing the incredible story to life. **

_I suppose that I look different without the robes and crown._

_I come this day before you with no riches, no renown._

He shuffled in place, wishing that he had taken better care in polishing the carven toes of his boots. He could see the dusting of the road's dirt in the scrollwork and bent to brush it with his sleeve just as the door opened.

_For here I am no leader, I am just a humble man,_

_And I only ask you take me, you take me as I am._

She was more beautiful than he had remembered, and delightfully plebian. Her hair was brown and worn simply back from her face, but her bearing bespoke higher blood. He cleared his throat and gestured to the empty street. "Hello, I come alone this time." The breeze stirred his blond mane. "Give a dwarf shelter for the night?"

And in his eyes she could see why he had come. She was a smart girl, and some things do not go unnoticed, even during a firestorm.

She looked away briefly before meeting his eager eyes, a blush warming her cheeks. "Come in," she said.

It was difficult not to eavesdrop. The house was small, and she could not sleep. Something in the rumble of his voice thrilled her, and did so the following day when he approached her outside. To speak the truth of the matter, she had known it would happen so. It did not startle her any less.

_I'm not looking for perfection, I'm not offering a saint._

_I'm not looking for a pretty bird to put in some restraint._

"Sigrid," he began, the roughness his tongue gave her name sending a shiver down her spine. "I have been speaking to your father. I –" He broke off and gave a nervous smile which she returned without really intending to, and watched as he looked skyward, running a hand over his mouth. "I have my flaws. I – I snore..." She knew that she should laugh, to put him at ease. But her voice caught in her throat. "There are many beautiful dwarven women. But I – my brother laughs – I do not value beauty. That's not what I meant –" he hastened to add, whispering, "You are the most beautiful of the daughters of men."

_The only thing I want is that you love me if you can._

_And I only ask you take me, you take me as I am._

"I do not think –" she began, but he took a step forward, lifting a broad hand.

"Wait – I am not finished." He met her eyes. "You know that I am the heir to the kingdom under the mountain."

She nodded.

"Aye, lass, of course you know it," he murmured. "And yet – I ask that if you would..." He choked. "If you would have me... it be for my own sake, and not my lineage."

Her lips parted. "I would never –"

His eyes pleaded with her. She shook her head vehemently. "When I lost my heart to you I did not even know who you were," she whispered.

His heart leapt and guided his actions.

_I offer you a look inside, I offer you that trust._

_I need your strength to help me fight the battles that I must._

The halls of Erebor were dim, and she was still awake when the door creaked open on its heavy hinges. She could see from the lines of his shoulders that it had been a long day. His vulnerability filled her with a strange mix of happiness and sorrow. He buried his head in her arms and she inhaled his scent, the smell of sweat and metal. "I love you," she whispered and she could feel him simply nod, and grow stronger.

_I need you to remind me of the light we bear within,_

_There's more to life than struggle and the things we seek to win._

Years passed, and it came stealthily. And yet when he regarded her in that way she felt cold. It was enough to see Thorin succumb to the sickness, but now the second heir had fallen prey to the yellow glitter as easily as a mouse is overpowered by a serpent. "It is not worth it," she began quietly, but his voice was measured and chilling.

"It is worth any length."

"Do you even hear yourself..." she whispered. "You are consumed. Completely and utterly – "

"You do not understand."

"I understand that our child will never rival the place in your heart that you hold for _gold,_" she replied bitterly. She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth.

_Don't take me out of duty, don't take me out of pride,_

_Just take me if the man you see is one you'd stand beside._

He wept openly."Why did you accept me," he managed. "I am not worthy of you."

"You are worth more twice over in my heart," she whispered, holding him close.

"What could you have seen in me?"

"I saw you simply as man, and a good one. One I wanted to spend my life with."

And that, he knew, was why he had fallen in love with her.

_I'm offering an open heart, I'm asking for your hand._

_And I only ask you take me, you take me as I am._


End file.
